interstellar5555 | Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

Entry tags:

Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

Who: Frisk and OPEN
What: Come bother Frisk at work!
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: Pizza Planet

[A]

Pizza Planet is a big, kid-themed pizza chain, popular for birthday parties. The Vista City location where Frisk works is attached to the mall, and as such is particularly large and extravagant. There's singing animatronics, sure, but the main attraction is the games.

Frisk's job, today, is to restock all the machines with tickets. They're pretty small for a worker. If not for their employee uniform, complete with a little hat, they could easily blend in with the children shouting joyfully and running from game to game. But for the most part they ignore them, focusing on their work. As fun as that would be, making good friends with any kids from here would cause too many problems. They're not sure they could contain themself, if the topic of music ever came up...

They go quietly from machine to machine, opening up a panel on each with a key and loading in a new roll of tickets. Out on the game floor like this, it's not unusual to get approached by customers.

Honestly, it's not entirely unusual for Frisk to just hand some kids a few tickets here and there either. It's against the rules, but it's not like anyone notices. And it makes people so happy!

[B]

They get a break for lunch, but Frisk doesn't really need the full time. They're used to scarfing down their meals fast, and it's a habit that's never fully faded. So they can be found in their street clothes for part of the afternoon, playing Dance Dance Revolution alone in the corner.

As it happens, they are utterly killing it.

The easier songs have long since ceased to be fun, so now they're working their way down from the hardest options. Some kids stop to watch from time to time, but they're largely heedless of any silent onlookers. Their mind is elsewhere.

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And then, at some point, Sans will suddenly be there.

Maybe Frisk backs into him, or turns a corner, but his appearance is very immediate. It's hard to dress down for the purposes of blending in when you already act like at total schlub, but as it turns out, he manages to pull off looking like he's from a street gang pretty easily. He might have borrowed some of Greg's clothes without asking. The opposite side of the grunge look from which he is accustomed, but it will do.

The important thing is that he doesn't look like Sans Esqueleto right now. Right now he will settle for 'world's smallest thug.'

Which does sort of make one wonder why he's cornering a five year old in a Pizza Planet, but whatever it'll do. He pulls down his shades to look them over.

"Hey."

Frisk did not expect to run into anybody when they turned that corner, but their reaction is immediate; they practically shoot back a few paces before they can even blink, crouched a little as if anticipating the need to jump.

But it only takes a second to recognize that they're not going to get attacked in Pizza Planet, and besides that, it's Sans. They relax and straighten, smiling at him and shifting their grip on the ticket rolls to wave. What a nice surprise! Even though they told him where to find them, they didn't really expect to see him as soon as this.

...unless, of course, something's wrong? They dart a glance over his shoulder for anyone like the security men from the concert.

There doesn't seem to be any security, which is a huge change in pace - it wouldn't have been possible, had Sans left the HQ by normal means. Every time he uses his teleportation ability, he feels like he's cutting the strand of a rope. There's no way to know for certain when it'll snap, so the less often he does things like this, the better.

This has to be worth it, though. At least he hopes.

As least Frisk's positive reaction means he probably won't get nabbed for an attempted kidnapping. He hadn't actually remembered that Pizza Planet was a kids place, which makes this whole thing a bit more awkward. He manages to relax into the situation, though, grinning easily and putting out a hand to shake, his shoulders and posture relaxed.

"Been a while, kiddo. Boss treating you alright?"

Playing it cool.

Frisk's brow creases a little at the lack of security, but they do relax more. However he got rid of them, it's for the best. They just hope he doesn't get into trouble later...

They put the ticket rolls down on the floor and take his hand, nodding. "Yeah. They're nice." Nice enough that they aren't too worried about anyone noticing that they're chatting on work time instead of doing their job. Frankly, this place is eternally chaotic. No one has the time or energy to follow up on what Frisk is doing.

Anyway, this is far more important; they only got the job so they could be here for Sans. "You?" they ask quietly.

It's the natural flow of conversation, but how ridiculous that question feels doesn't quite strike him until it's already out there. There is a lot to the answer, there. Him personally? He's fine, for the moment. The bosses aren't actually the ones that keep beating the piss out of him. He scratches his nose.

"That's one hell of a question," he says, a note of exhaustion working its way into his tone. The things going on are many levels of not okay, but he doesn't even know where to start. Some of it is happening to kids not much older than this one. Whom...he still doesn't really know the identity of. "You got time to chat? Don't mean to interrupt..."

Frisk frowns, shifting to hold their arms loosely across their body. They knew, of course, that the answer was never going to be good. It's possible that they know the depths of the music bosses' cruelty better than Sans does - except, of course, for whatever they're doing right now, to people they've already kidnapped and changed and scared into submission.

"It's okay." They glance around on instinct. None of their own managers are around, but this still isn't a good place for a real talk. It's loud, and kids keep running past with their tired parents.

Working here has at least a few perks, though. "Back there?" they ask, pointing towards the nearest Employees Only door. It'd be a lot more isolated, but they get if Sans doesn't want to be locked away somewhere with them right now. He doesn't seem to remember them too well.

In the past he might have been. Now, of course, he has his own reasons to not be all that concerned with the possibility of Frisk turning on him. That sense of security feels very natural. Sometimes, it's hard to remember how he lived without it.

"Lead the way," he prompts, nodding Frisk ahead. He's not that worried about getting caught by their boss, or whatever. He's got his excuses prepared. The idea of talking to this person in genuine privacy is enthralling, though. There is so much they could know about what's happening that he doesn't.

Sans will follow Frisk into the employee only area without any complaint. Once they are inside, he takes a moment to give himself the tour of the area before turning to face them.

"Hey, maybe this is a crass way to start, but..." he trails off for a moment, and then sighs helplessly. "Kid, I gotta know what you're doing here. I got practically no idea."

The employee-only hall isn't much to look at. This one isn't near the kitchens; it's just got a few storage areas, and occasionally some costumed performers without their heads. They're supposed to keep the kids from seeing them like that. Now, though, it's empty except for Frisk and Sans.

After a quick check around, Frisk turns back to Sans, angling themself to watch the door as well. If anyone comes in, they can duck into one of the storage closets. For once, that seems like the more worrying aspect of this conversation; Sans's first question has an easy answer. "I came for you," they reply easily. "And Toriel. I know - " They chew at their lip for a second. "I know she's not with you guys anymore. But she's somewhere."

Did Sans know that? Well, he does now.

This is nerve wracking. Sans doesn't show his stress easily, but it manifests in small ways - like a certain manic glint to his eyes, for example. Being active is not something he excels at.

"You're from...wherever I came from," he says. It's not a question - this must is obvious at this point, even though his mind is still uneasy with the solution. How could he be from somewhere else? The distractions still left in his mind try to convince him this information is false, even when that's obviously not the case. It's sort of maddening.

"Do you happen to know why I'm here, then?" He casts an uneasy glance off to the side. Is he really facing the reality of his entire life here being a sham? He thinks he is. This is awful.

Frisk frowns in concern, tilting their head slightly. He's so much easier to read with skin and muscles and things; still, they think most people might not be able to see how freaked out he is.

That doesn't mean they're going to lie though. They've all had enough of that here. "You were kidnapped," they reply. Their tone is soft; they're trying not to be too blunt about it. But that's what happened. "Not just you."

He already knew full well that he was being kept against his will, but it had always seemed more like the result of making a stupid business deal. Tricked into entering the trap with honey, not literally captured. Ever since he ended up with bones for arms, he's been operating under the assumption that its some kind of spiritual resonance - crazy macroscopic past life regression.

But if some is here for him, someone he remembers...it can't be in the past like that. It must be all linear.

Sans is silent for a moment, and the thoughts buzzing through his head are clearly visible to someone like Frisk, who knows what to look for. Is he dead or something? He's never felt dead, but maybe he is.

"Kidnapped from where? The graveyard?" His tone is hard, despite himself. He has no reason to be upset at Frisk, but the stress manifests as a kind of bitterness that Frisk wouldn't have seen much of in the past.

Eda isn't sure why she came to Pizza Planet, she's sure it had something to do with the mall, but for some reason or another comes in. These places freak her out, the animatronics, all the children...

Still she spots a familiar child murdering the Dance Dance Revolution machine. It's Frisky.

Holy shit they are great, so Eda just stares at the kid.

There's something nice about being able to go someplace where people are happy. Call it music therapy. Of course, there's an art to going to a kids' restaurant and arcade without looking like a creeper; in J's experience, it usually involves a hoodie and spending a few bucks on arcade games. He picks up on a familiar tune - that's right, Frisk works here, don't they - and heads to the back to find them on the DDR machine, absolutely tearing it up.

He gives a low, impressed whistle when the song finishes. "You know, I can't say I'm surprised."

There's some loud, celebratory sound effects from the Limit Bike machine in the corner. Wrapped around the gaudy fibreglass biomechanical-style motorcycle controller is a striking young man with a flashy leather outfit and a flashier haircut; he looks like he's been playing it for hours, mostly because he has has. He's been there since the store opened. There had been a queue for the game a couple of hours back, but they'd long since given it up as a lost cause. The score counter is running out of spaces to put 9s.

"Yeah!" he announces, sitting bolt upright on the bike and pumping the air elaborately while the virtual bike automatically loops through the course again. When he turns to face whoever's near him to get their attention, his face is fierce and perfectly serious, like he's just won a race for real. "Filled out the high scores on another circuit." He taps at the buttons between the handlebars - C L O U D, then combs his fingers through his hair, trying to look offhandedly cool. "Feels like I've been playing this thing forever... like I was born for it. Feel like taking me on?"

Edited 2016-02-23 00:51 (UTC)

Frisk doesn't actually look up until after they've finished their current song, but once they do they're quick to notice Eda. They brighten; what a nice surprise! It's been a while since they've seen her. They wave with a smile. Come on over and talk, their game is done now!

J! Frisk jumps down off the pad and goes over to greet them, offering a hand in greeting. It's an easy way for them to say hi to their friends that isn't - well, saying hi to their friends. This place is pretty loud anyway.

He likes to dance, doesn't he? They point back towards the pad. Let's do another round! They totally know how to get free plays out of these things.

Frisk was only lingering nearby because, frankly, this guy has been here since before their shift started and the employees are sort of talking. They were curious!

They didn't really expect to be acknowledged, especially since it seems like no one can tear the man away from his bike game. But beyond looking a little surprised at the address, they shrug and nod. Sure, why not? They clamber up onto the second bike, then look at Cloud expectantly.

Frisk raises an eyebrow and shakes their head.

"Probably your house." Does being a skeleton bother him that much? The sense of frantic thought, trying to piece things together - that's to be expected. But the anger? They don't feel like they'd be very upset, if they found out that they were some rare type of monster and not a human after all. But they've known about monsters already. They're also not brainwashed.

"Skeleton monsters aren't the same as human skeletons," they try to explain. It's not that they're an expert in monster biology either; they just know more than most humans. "Human skeletons are dead people. Monsters are alive whatever they're made of." There's monsters made out of metal and rock and fire, after all. They don't need to have humanish bodies to live.

Does this mean Sans remembers being a skeleton now? That's good, right?

The strange thing is that he hadn't been angry about it at all until recently. He'd reacted to the idea of being nothing but bone very casually, when it came down to it. Why is it that only now the idea has him frustrated? Maybe it's the stress taking its toll on him. Maybe it seems worse upon realizing that his life as a skeleton doesn't accentuate, but replaces his entire identity here.

Frisk's explanation seems to calm him though, at least in part. It's enough to distract him - fascinate him. He wouldn't have expected something like a skeleton to be a living creature, but then again, he wouldn't expect something dead to be able to heal like his arm had. Not that he hadn't had some help.

"Right...so what was the deal with that ice cream? It was kind of, uh...an experience." A good one, generally, but an experience all the same.

He shakes their hand, grinning. Yep, this is definitely what he needs as a pick me up. He follows them back to the pad, smiling all the while. "Sounds like a plan. You got any favorites?"

It's brief, but Cloud looks surprised, like a schoolboy who hadn't been expecting to be picked for the team. He nods, and gives Frisk a look of sincere appreciation.

"I don't go easy on anyone," he warns, setting up the 2-Player mode. He's never been the type to treat children any differently to how he treats anyone else, and somehow he feels this kid wouldn't appreciate it if he did. While the game loads, he turns towards the kid and asks, "Have you ever played this before? Enemies come at you from the left and right - you have to dodge the projectiles and mow 'em down with the Side Attacks."

Then he pulls the rev on the handlebars in time with the number on the counter that will give him a boost. He is a very good player, instinctively compensating for the quirks of the machine and ruthlessly slaughtering virtual enemies - if he's going to be beaten, he'll need to be talked, distracted or tricked into losing.

Frisk is adorable and easy to talk to, so Eda comes right on over.

"Hey Frisky, how ya been?"

“Ah, the ARCADE! Suppose it's as good a place as any to blow off steam, now that that bar won't let me throw darts anymore...”

Admittedly, men with only one eye don't always have the best depth perception. Bill hovers at the entrance and turns to the Virgo security detail tailing after him with a toothy grin.

“How's about I win you a prize, Sparky?!”

The newly dubbed 'Sparky' does not look amused.

“More for me.”

Bill Cipher might not always cut the friendliest figure, but he's certainly chatty enough, and the Vandalism in Progress pin on his hat makes it pretty easy to tell who he is affiliated with. Yeah, he'll be the first to admit as unconventional as he is, he likely isn't the first intended target demographic for this shop, but when places like these are attached to malls, it probably wasn't all that odd to have curious onlookers pass on through. He tosses his hat a couple times, debating on if he is really bored enough to indulge before noticing Frisk. Well, they are in a working uniform, obviously they are here to be bothered. He gives a small wave.

“Hey kiddo, I've been told I need to get my energy out in a less 'destructive fashion than I've been doing' and 'dear god, Bill, just go somewhere, anywhere ELSE'. What do you consider fun in this joint?”

"That's Nice Cream. My friend sells it." Did Sans notice the nice thing written on the wrapper? "It's not because of it, it's just 'cause all monster food does that. It's made with magic, so it just goes straight into energy. Not like human food." They scrunch up their face a little and gesture vaguely towards the area of their stomach. You know how human food works by now, right?

"It's good for healing," they conclude, though they had wondered how effective it would be on a monster. Maybe it's because he's part-human now? Or maybe that's why they never really see injured monsters. "But some food's better, so tell me if you need more." Nice Cream's good for most things, but when they get in the worst fights it's good to have some backup cinnabuns.

Frisk shakes their head. "You can pick," they say quietly, though it might be hard to hear them over the noise in here. They've run a lot of these songs already; it wouldn't be fair for them to choose one they've practiced a lot.

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Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

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A.) If Frisk would care to meet a bandmate/ play games with a monster?

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